Altered Fate
by Llamrei
Summary: Basically the battle of helm's deep redone(quickly) and to my liking...with a different ending.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: this story was written purely out of enjoyment and I own absolutely nothing of Tolkien's work's....though Legolas would be nice!  
  
Authors Note: the story takes place during the battle of Helm's Deep but has been changed to suit my imagination...don't kill me because of the ending!  
  
He walked along the lines, feeling the stares upon his back. The sun shone brightly on their masses but only before darkness stretched its hand across the land. The sky grew angry as lightning crashed upon the ground, yet there he stood among his allies even as the rain pelted him. His hair blew wildly in the wind as he stood stock still, watching the horde in front.  
  
In the distance a horn was sounded just before the minions of darkness charged. He heard his friend command their comrades to hold while all the archers, himself included, notched their bows. With a single word from his friends lips hundreds upon hundreds of arrows were loosened from their bows, all meeting their marks with deadly accuracy. He let loose arrow after arrow until the horde was at their wall, throwing ladders and ropes against the side to aid in their ascent. Steady streams of the enemy breached the wall as he discarded his bow, favoring his knives in such close quarters. Cries of triumph and death surrounded him as he concentrated on staying alive. He refused to stay idle in the same place but was forced to once the enemy realized who he was. He tried to remain inconspicuous but they saw through his deceit and circled him in.  
  
From snarling faces came disgraceful taunts and promises of death. With a total of eight opponents encircling him he adopted a defensive stance as he observed their body language. A shuffle of feet and a tightening of claws on hilts alerted him of their advance. Two of the beast came at him with a thundering roar only to find themselves impaled on his blades. He jerked at the offending weight while ripping out his weapons, forcing himself to take a step back or else he lose his footing. With no time to recover he swung his right arm outward as he fell into a crouch, narrowly missing the sword aimed for his head. From his position he slashed his knives upward while at an angle, efficiently gutting the foul beast in front. As he attempted to unhinge his blades from the offending body he was unable to completely deflect a sword which caught on his arm, effectively slicing through his arm bracer and spilling forth his blood. Biting his lip to keep from crying out he tightened his grip on his knives while he crossed and uncrossed his arms, ridding one of the creatures of its head. Slowly he raised himself off of the ground listening as the body hit the ground with a muted thump. The others still lusted for his blood but in their eyes shown doubt. Before he could dispatch of the remaining foes four arrows, not of his bow, whistled by his head slaying his enemies. Giving a nod of thanks to his archers he ran onward, destroying any who crossed his path.  
  
Black blood dripped from his blades and decorated his tunic yet more was to be spilt. His hair, once golden, was now streaked with black and red, leaving lines of filth on his face as it was whipped about. He kept his knives slashing even as his left hand threatened to give away. He started to call for another volley of arrows but was forced to muffle that order when he sensed a sword coming towards his back. Acting quickly, he jumped forward as he spun around, his blades slicing through the tender flesh of the creature's throat before the offending blade could fall. Without a second glance he continued forward, helping those who threatened to fall.  
  
Rain poured down on the battle, making the ground slick with both water and blood. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating those locked in battle for a split second. But on the wall he fought on, oblivious to the elements and the effort he had to put forth to compensate for the treacherous footing. Dodging left and right he quickly slew all those who came within reach of his blades before moving to slaughter another. He tightened his grip as the hilts of his knives grew slick from the blood that coated them. He calmed his senses, trying to rationalize his raging thoughts but an earsplitting scream destroyed his ministrations. Quickly grabbing his bow he notched an arrow and watched it soar, striking down the beast before it stood ten paces from him. Friends saw that he still had his bow called him over since the archers were the ones who were felled first. Heeding the cry of his fellows he raced towards his friend, slashing right and left with his blackened blades. He ignored the pain as a sword hilt caught him on his side yet he could not stop his vision from clouding nor the snapping of his ribs. He disregarded the cries of the dead and dying, knowing it would do him no good to grieve. Instead he sought out his friend to add his blades to his sword.  
  
A cry from his left alerted him of his friend's presence while he fought the surrounding creatures. He jumped to the right as he swung out with his left arm, fatally wounding one of two beings. He whipped around to strike out at the other only to watch its head fall from its body. Behind the falling corpse, confused blue eyes found gloating brown as he saw his friends smirking face as he sought another foe. He struck his new found enemy with deadly precision while maintaining an eye and an ear on his friend. He saw a creature sneak up on his back and noticed his friend's concentrated form unaware of the new threat. He watched as the beast raised its sword and as his friend slowly turned around, completely unprepared to defend himself. Without a thought of his own safety he threw one of his knives, watching with a sickening satisfaction as it lodged in the beings throat, killing it instantly.  
  
So caught up in his friends newly acquired safety he was unable to detect the sound of a bow being notched. So caught up that his friend was alive for the time being he almost missed the expression of horror that slowly washed cross his face, almost. Blue eyes widening in fear he quickly turned around only to he thrown backwards. Fear turned to shock as he stared at the vial object protruding from his right shoulder, just below the collarbone. So absorbed in his astonishment that he was injured he did not hear the creatures shout of victory nor his friends bellow of rage. He did not witness his friend brutally kill the one who injured him or the expressions of terror plastered on his allies faces. All he saw was the shaft of an arrow in his shoulder, and his tunic steadily darkening with blood. 


	2. Triumphant Failure

PART 2 Disclaimer: refer to the first chapter.  
  
Authors Note: well, first of all let me say this...I had no notion of continuing this story, I was going to leave it as a 1 chapter thing but I relented. So without further ado, I would like to thank all of the readers/reviewers for convincing me to continue...sorry it took so long but I had to rewrite the ending a couple of times. Just for kicks I let the season be around fall, just for fun okay? oh, by the way.I'm thinking of writing more fanfics but I'm not sure if I am any good, plus I have no ideas right now, but if I do write them they won't be posted for a while since school and work are taking a toll on me. Enjoy!  
  
That incident would be forever etched in his mind. The whistle as the air was cut and the sound of an arrow imbedding itself in flesh. He tried to warn him but no words came forth, all he could do was watch. He watched as his friends' eyes widened in fear and he watched as he turned his back on him. He could do nothing to repress the trembles of fear that coursed through his body as he witnessed the quivering of his friends back as he absorbed the impact of the arrow. There he stood, rooted to the spot only until he heard the creatures cry of triumph...then he snapped. He charged the creature as it was still gloating over his friend's pain, which only seemed to fuel him on. His sword, already dripping with their vial black blood, thirsted for more. His arms were tiring but he forced them to move along with his legs. He tumbled as he charged, unleashing an agonizing shout of rage and anguish which left none unaffected. His sword sang as it sliced through the sinews and bone of the creature's neck, leaving the stump spurting black onto his armor. As the body fell he turned on his right leg, heading directly for his injured friend. Other foul beasts sensed a weakness in the blonde's body but were slain before they could reach the fair creature. He killed all those within his reach and lusted for more blood to be spilt. His brown hair was turned a sticky black and water and blood streaked his rugged face. His eyes spoke of pain and desperation as he ran the last few steps to his friend.  
  
He reached out, with a shaking hand, towards the bowed, blond head. Words poured forth from his lips yet were unanswered, leaving him with a sinking feeling inside. His right hand gently touched the once golden strands, slowly moving them out of the fair beings face only to have him suck in a breath as he witnessed the struggle to suppress the pain across his friend's features. He called his name, awaiting an answer only to receive a slight nod of golden hair which cascaded down slim shoulders to once again shroud his face. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he moved his fingers to his friend's throat, finding his pulse rapidly beating yet faint. Closing his eyes as the grievous nature of the wound finally entered his thoughts, he steeled himself for what he was about to do. The arrow was poisoned, that much he knew for there seemed no other reason for the injury to deplete his friends of his strength so quickly. With a heavy heart he told his friend what he had to do, he had to remove the arrow, in-avertedly causing him more pain. Taking the shaft in his right hand he pressed his other hand just below his friends wound to aid in keeping him from thrashing about. With a single word of warning he pulled the arrow towards his body only to have it snag on his friends flesh and refuse to give.  
  
The scream tore through the lines as it was filled with a searing agony no words could describe. The battle seemed to freeze and listen as the scream was unleashed. With unusually steady hands he released his hold on the arrow shaft only to stare in horror as more blood was released. Stuttering over an apology he managed to collect himself only to realize the arrow must be pushed clean through his shoulder, else he die. A scream from another friend reminded him of the severity of the situation, considering a battle still raged on either side of him. With a knowing look at his friend he braced himself for what he was about to do. Looping his left arm under his friend's legs he eased his right arm under his friend's back, careful of how he held his ribs for fear of aggravating the injury. Slowly he raised himself to his feet all the while maintaining a hold on his friend, carrying the prince like one would a babe. Normally he would receive death threats and promises of revenge for carrying him so but on this day his friend remained silent. Moving as quickly as possible with his precious burden, he ran towards the fortress walls where they had discussed their plans for defense just prior. The journey to the wall was uneventful considering one of their allies, specifically the one with the axe, was slaying all who looked upon the fair being. He watched his friend swing his axe in an upward arch, fatally wounding two beasts that had intended to relieve him of his burden. He shouted orders to his stout little friend as he ran through the gates, entering the fort.  
  
The hall was deserted, which surprised him none, as he carefully laid his ailing friend on the ground. Ripping his cloak into strips he soaked up as much blood as possible before ridding his friend of his tunic. Once he was given a good look at the injury his fear came back ten fold. The wound, usually clean cut, was jagged from the attempted removal while his skin was becoming a creamy white. The wound itself was inflamed and red while the blood running from it was not a normal red, but a darker crimson, resembling the black blood of the creature who released the arrow.  
  
Their stubborn friend returned with a bowl of water only to threaten to mutilate all of their foes for injuring his comrade. With a silencing glare to his raging friend he placed a strip of his cloak into the bowl before bringing it to the archers heaving chest to help clean the wound. His friend's breath came in ragged gasps, forcing him to reign in his anger for the fair beings over protectiveness of him. He watched his friend's chest move up and down, reminding him that he still lived and was in dire need of his help. Ridding himself of thoughts of self guilt he asked their comrade to hold the immortal in a sitting position which would help to prevent him from thrashing about. Brown eyes closing in sorrow he looked at the fair beings face only to watch a tear cascade down his cheek from eyes filled with pain and distress. Giving a slight nod to his wounded friend his clasped the prince's right shoulder in his left hand and grabbed the arrow in his right. He closed his eyes as he pushed forward with all his might, forcing the arrow through his best friend's flesh.  
  
No scream pierced the still air as the arrow was removed, that was what scared him. Frightful brown eyes looked upon his friends pale face, praying for a sign of awareness. Slowly pale lips were opened as rivulets of crimson were released from their enclosure. His bloodied and bruised lip could be clearly seen for it was used to withhold the inescapable scream. He reached around his friends back where he retrieved the foul shaft of the arrow, finally being able to see the weapon in all of its deadly glory. The arrow was crafted with the sole purpose of inflicting pain to its bearer, that much could be easily seen. Barbs covered the arrowhead and a quarter of the shaft. Hanging off of the barbs clumps of flesh were limply attached as red ran down the shaft into his hand. Bringing the arrow closer for further inspection he noticed that the tip of the arrowhead was crudely fashioned, jagged edges decorated the piece while traced of a foul smelling substance still coated the barbs.  
  
Turning his attention back to his wounded friend he quickly gathered a strip of his newly torn cloak and used it to clean his friends recently acquired exit wound. The blood that ran from it still retained a blackish tint to it so he poised his hands on either side of the wound before he squeezed. The immortals body bucked at the offending pressure as the one supporting him started sprouting a variety of colorful dwarfish curses. Blood came more freely yet showed no sign of returning to its rightful color anytime soon. With a quick glance to his newly acquired assistant he managed to silence him, yet again, just long enough to concentrate further on their fading friend. With a final agonizing sigh he increased the pressure on the wound all the while ignoring the muffled sounds of despair accompanied by some intriguing threats of a slow and painful death.  
  
Slowly the blood began to run clear as his hands started to tremble. He watched the ever steadily growing puddle of red on the ground surround the three of them as they huddled around the cause. Once again he cleansed the wound, applying herbs and bandages upon both sides of the injury. Raising his exhausted gaze he observed his friend for any signs of improvement. Blood still trickled from his mouth as he leaned his head back, letting his once golden mane shroud the supporters vision. his chest continued to heave from the extensive abuse to his body as he slowly closed his eyes and allowed his body to go lax into the others protective grip.  
  
Not letting his gaze wander from the fair beings face he questioned if he felt alright. The reply he received was a slight chuckle and some not so princely words as to if he would feel alright after having an arrow forced through his flesh. Smirking to the given reply he began to poke and prod his bruised friend for signs of any more injuries. Once again he listened to colorful dwarfish AND elfish as he discovered three broken ribs. After much resistance he also discovered the breached arm bracer which hid a "scratch" as the injured one claimed it to be. Once the bracer was removed he quickly cleaned the "scratch" only after listening to their small friend take on the role of mother to the archer. Effectively binding the gash adorning his arm he watched as the lecturing "mother" continued to scold the sulking "child". He watched for any slight sign that would aid in helping him discern his comrades well being but found that immortal was quite effective at hiding what he wanted kept secret.  
  
His complexion was still to pale and his hair was a bloodied mess. His tunic now lay adorned on the ground beside him as he sat in a pool the three of them sat in a pool of the archer's blood. The bandaged wrapped around his chest were already stained crimson while he kept his arms securely wrapped about himself, whether trying to hide the blood or not the ranger was unable to tell. Instead he kept staring at his eyes and how the light that once shown so brightly was becoming ever so dim. With his own eyes widening in realization he was about to say something when the immortals gaze locked onto his, confirming his fears. Once again he gaze shifted to their feet and the size of the puddle that surrounded them, quickly calculating the amount of blood a being is able to lose and still remain alive. Ever so slowly he raised his eyes to the archers again only to see great despair and pity written in their depths. Silent tears streamed down the archers face as he choked on the words he wanted to say, yet he could barely rationalize his thoughts. He noticed some things now, whether it was because he was allowed to or the façade of wellbeing was slowly slipping. Hands once strong enough to wield twin knives in deadly accuracy were trembling as once proud shoulders were stooped with defeat. His face, usually bright and full of laughter, was now shrouded in darkness of which his kind should never face. Yet through his realization the archer continued to be lectured by the dwarf, making a comment here and there. Slowly his comments became nods of approval and those nods became knowing gazes.  
  
The archers gaze never left the rangers, begging him to understand. He opened his mouth to speak but a hacking cough shook his body, ridding him of all breath. His shoulders trembled under the agonizing torture as his insides refused to comply to his minds orders. Blood flew from his mouth as the coughs became a battle for breath which he could no longer disguise. Clutching his sides he doubled over, feeling light touches upon his back and forehead while hearing comforting words spoken softly. The ranger continued to clutch his friends shaking body as his tears fell upon the bandaged back. Silent tears became sobs as realization dawned upon the dwarf as to what was occurring. Slowly he raised his gaze from the blond head to the dwarves fear-striken gaze, confirming the grim nature of the situation.  
  
The battle outside was drawing to a close as the minions of darkness were gaining the upper hand. Minutes from dawn the last leaf of a tree in Mirkwood fell, never to be blown in the wind again. Screams of despair and grief emanated from the fortress where two beings lay holding a third. The ranger and the dwarf raised their voices in torment as their friend, their comrade, their brother, was taken. Slowly the suns rays illuminated the scene, chasing away the darkness of night but not of heart. The white wizard finally arrived with the sun to help the battle become a victory yet the two could not seem to care. With cheeks stained with blood, sweat and tears they found solace in each other oblivious to the cries of triumph since all they could hear was the breaking of a family. 


End file.
